chess
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From a Rust Belt Worker to the President Sir—do you play chess?Ever checkmate a Russian?(I hear they’re good.)Or that young kid Fischerin some pre-arrangedElon-made Grok stew? Was Magnus tough?Did you unbox himlike flat-pack furniture—extra screws left over?(I know IKEA’s Swedish,but you get my meaning.) Did Big Blue foldwhen you played “bigly”?Your Cupertino pals—they set the
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I embarked on ritualistic quests—reading Russian short novels in the twilight,playing timed chess as minutes slipped like sand,fasting to one humble meal a day,drinking bitter espresso to puncture the haze,smoking in the quiet solitude of dusk,and pickling myself in vodka’s icy embrace,laboring until every morning,my limbs begged gentle guidancejust to stir into motion. In that
BB Grey--musings 